


Peace Offering

by GodlessOx



Series: Don't Mind the Gap [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: A quieter Link who talks more than he likes, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 14:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18812620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodlessOx/pseuds/GodlessOx
Summary: One week after the Yiga's attack in the Gerudo Desert Link decides to have a heart to heart with his charge. However, he is unsure how to approach her on the matter. The Princess has never had the patience for her knight at the best of times, and she's been uncharacteristically quiet since their return to the castle. A gift, he decides. Something to bridge the gap between them.





	Peace Offering

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: This is technically a prequel to There Will Be a Future. However, there is no need to read that story to enjoy this one for what it is.
> 
> So, I recently discovered Kass' final song and fell in love with the idea of the lovesick Sheikah Poet. Anyone else? Just me? Okay. I hope you enjoy this story.
> 
> Edit: Overhauled the grammar now that I know what I'm doing.

_ Link ran as fast as his feet could carry him over the soft desert sand. Yiga assassins were chasing his troublesome charge. Why was the Princess always sneaking away from his side? He cursed her rebellious spirit as the distance between him and the assassins grew greater. _

_ Why couldn't he catch up? Zelda slipped on the sand, landing on her side. Link put all of his will into his legs, yet felt as though he was running place. The space between him and the assassins grew even larger as they closed in on his charge. One of them raised a wickedly curved sword, and brought it down with all his might… _

Link shot upright, scrambling for where the Master Sword leaned against his bedside. Blade in hand, he took in his surroundings. He was in a dark chamber. A table and chair sat beside a bookshelf across from where he lay. Cool night air blew in through the open window past the head of his bed.

The beating of his heart slowed to an acceptable pace as Link realized he was in his room at Hyrule Castle. He sheathed the Blade of Evil's Bane and took a cleansing breath.

The knight ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair as he recalled the events of last week. That ambush hadn't been the first time the Yiga had made an attempt on Zelda’s life, but it was the first that had come so terrifyingly close to success. If he had arrived just a few seconds later…

He needed to talk to the Princess. There was no way around that fact. They  _ needed _ to come to an understanding. However, Link was unsure how to approach his charge on the topic. Zelda had been acting strange since the attempt on her life.

She had thanked him for saving her life, but had hardly spoken a word since. At first Link was grateful for the silence, but he grew concerned as their worldless riding pasted into its second day. Zelda always had something to say, even if she was simply thinking out loud. She never let silence take over for more than a couple hours. Link was beginning to think it frightened her.

He slipped out of bed and stuck his head out the window, looking for the moon. It was nowhere to be seen.

_ Must be past midnight _ , he thought briefly before rummaging through the trunk at the foot of his bed. 

Link threw on the simple tunic and trousers he wore whenever he was granted leave. There was no going back to sleep after that nightmare. He left his room and set off for the no doubt deserted kitchen. Link wasn’t hungry, but the act of cooking had always soothed him.

A brilliant idea entered his mind as he swung open the kitchen door,

_ I can make something for Zelda! _

The Princess wasn’t motivated by food like he and Daruk were, but everyone loved sweets. Maybe it was foolish to think that food could get her back to her normal self, especially given her recent lack of appetite, but what else could he do? Console her? Give her advice? No. Link wasn't good enough with his words, and anything that came from him was liable to come off as condescending. He did have one other idea, but he greatly doubted she would take it seriously.

_ Well… maybe. _

He would focus on the sweet for now. It was simpler. Even if it failed to cheer her up, Zelda would still eat it out of courtesy. Link could use his gift as a chance to have a heart to heart with his charge. Maybe if she saw him for who he really was, past the mask he hid behind, she would be more willing to cooperate.

Urbosa’s words still rang clearly in his mind, “ _ She gets frustrated everytime she looks up and sees you carrying that sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure when it comes to her own destiny. _ ”

Link had learned a great deal about Zelda that night and it was only fair she learned something about him. It would be worth it in the long run. Even if he loathed the idea of how long he would actually have to speak to accomplish his goal.

Link lit the torches in the kitchen, and took in the tools at his disposal. In the center of the room was a large rectangular table, the surface of which was covered end to end with knicks and cuts. The southern wall was taken up by a massive pantry. On the west side sat several ovens and a rotisserie stand. Above the ovens hung pots, pans, knives, and other cooking utensils. To the east was a large set of double doors that lead directly to the castle's main dining hall. The northern side of the kitchen held several basins for washing dishes and hands. It was also home to the small service door through which Link had entered the kitchen.

Link opened several of the pantry doors, scrutinizing the ingredients he had to work with: Tabantha wheat, Hylian rice, butter, nuts, rock salt, sugar, flower, dried meats, honey, fruits, vegetables, and spices of all kinds. The knight pondered the choices before him with grim determination. He could make anything from a simple honeyed apple, to an overstuffed fruit pie.

_ Cake _ , Link thought to himself.  _ She’s definitely a cake person. But what kind? _

His mind swimming in a sea of possibilities, Link prepared the oven closest to him for baking. He was midway through washing his hands when he heard something coming from behind the double doors. He grabbed a rag to dry his hands, and listened intently… it was a voice. A voice whose owner sang a wordless tune.

_ No… _ he pleaded.

The voice, still singing, was now throwing rhymes together,

“ _ Lynel, final, fear, spear, savage, ravage… hmm.. Monster, falter? _ ”

_ No, no, no... _ Link begged the seemingly deaf Goddesses of Hyrule.

The voice was louder now. Clearer. Just behind the doors,

“ _ Two knights most brave, ‘take up your spears, for our land you must save! _ '”

The doors flew open to reveal a Sheikah man holding a pencil in one hand and an open book in the other. He wore a dark blue tunic and white trousers. He kept his snowy hair cut short and his head hat free to proudly display the symbol tattooed on his forehead.

_ Not Zalla… _ Link allowed himself a small groan and wished his quiet evening a fond farewell.

Link didn’t actively dislike the court poet, but the man was as bad as Zelda when it came to needless speech. Maybe worse… he had also grown standoffish with the knight as of late.

“Couldn’t sleep either, eh?” Zalla asked, a weary smile on his lips.

Link let his face slide into its expressionless mask and nodded his response. The poet placed his writing tools on the table as Link turned away from him to grab a mixing bowl and spoon. When Link crossed back to the pantry, he found Zalla already there, pulling out a mighty banana.

“So, what are you making?” he asked, peeling the banana.

Link shrugged, grabbing the butter and wheat needed for the base of the cake.

“Well, whatever you make, don't use any of the Goron spices,” Zalla warned. “Imports from Death Mountain have slowed since the recent rise in monster attacks,” he continued, crossing the kitchen to lean his back against the table. “But you know all about that, don't you?” he went on as Link sat his supplies on the opposite end of the table from him.

Zalla took a large bite of his snack and spoke yet again, “Hm, the point is, if the chef finds out you ‘stole’ her Goron spices… well, I don’t think the Goddesses themselves could protect you from her wrath.”

Link began the mixing process, grimacing when the poet finally caught on to the dish he was making.

“I never would have guessed you had a sweet tooth,” Zalla said, leaning his hands on the table, a wry smile on his lips. “And cake isn’t exactly the meal of champions, now is it?”

Link ignored the childish observation, giving his project all his focus. Zalla laughed and flipped open his book to scribble something on its pages.

“ _ Alas, Farore’s Chosen, had one weakness he couldn’t sake… his crippling addiction to cake. Hyrule’s fate did worsen, when when a beast most brazen, stole his honeyed plate, _ ” Zalla sang, no doubt mirroring what he wrote.

Link drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for Zalla to finish his mockery and leave. It was annoying, but at least it didn’t have the same spiteful tone as Revali’s banter. On a better day, Link might have even found the song humorous. Although he had grown tired of being the butt of Zalla’s jokes, it was still refreshing to have someone at the castle who didn’t treat him as a sacred weapon and didn’t lord themselves over Link like a certain Rito archer.

There was a blessed silence as Zalla polished off the remains of his mighty banana. Link went back to the pantry, still unsure of the exact cake he intended to bake. He might have offered a prayer to Nayru for inspiration, but he highly doubted the Goddess of Wisdom would offer him any help when it came to the Princess.

“So,” the damned windbag started up again. “I’m actually glad to have caught you alone like this.”

Link turned to meet Zalla’s intense red stare with mild confusion.

The Sheikah man sighed, turning his eyes to the floor, “I just wanted to thank you for saving Zel--er, the Princess while you were in the Gerudo Desert.”

He looked back up to Link, clearly flustered, “I-I know it’s your job and all, but… I don’t know wha… thank you, for taking care of her.”

Link was taken aback. He had never seen Zalla at a loss for words before. It was… disturbing. And how did he know about the assassins? 

Link remembered his charge muttering something into the ear of one of her attendants shortly after they arrived home. She must have requested an audience with the court poet. It wasn’t an uncommon event for Zelda or her father to request a private performance from Zalla. It was also fairly common to see the Princess and her poet talking each other’s ears off. Zalla was one of the few people outside the research team that could hold their ground in a conversation with the Princess.

In hindsight, Link shouldn’t have been surprised that Zelda had told the poet about the events of last week. Zalla threw the banana skin away and gathered his writing supplies.

“I should get going. Great fiction doesn’t write itself after all!” With that said, he turned to leave.

_ Wait, if anyone knows what kind of cake! _ Link couldn’t let this chance slip past him.

He hurried to Zalla, catching him by the shoulder.

“Umm…”

“The Princess,” he began, watching Zalla’s face scrunch as he strained his ears to hear the knight’s voice over the crackle of the small fire.

“What sweets does she like?” 

The Sheikah man made a strange sound in response to Link’s question.

Zalla removed Link’s hand from his shoulder before covering his face. He moved back to the table, slouched over it, dropped his items, and let out a labored sigh.

“You were right to do this at night,” he said, keeping his back to Link. “The cooks are terrible gossips.”

Link guessed the poet had a point, but why was he acting so-- “Handsome, thoughtful, a literal lifesaver,  _ and _ a cook?!” Zalla turned around to face Link, throwing his hands in the air. “How is a simple poet meant to compete against that?” He despaired, wrapping his arms around himself.

_ Oh, that's why. _

This revelation didn't really surprise Link; it served as an explanation to Zalla's rudeness over the last few months. The Princess is beautiful, intelligent, and kind to everyone but her knight. Not to mention that body of hers…

Link shook the impure thoughts from his head and tried to speak, only to be cut off.

“Fruit cake,” Zalla muttered sadly, “She has a slice almost every time I sing for her.” “It's her favorite,” he explained, casting his gaze to the ceiling, “It has to be--the way her eyes shine every time she takes a bite.” He turned his eyes to Link. “I swear I see Hylia's light in those moments.”

Link was stupefied. If Zalla saw him as a rival for Zelda's affection, why would he tell Link what her favorite cake was? Why would he make himself so vulnerable?

“She fears you're angry with her,” Zalla answered Link's unspoken questions, “It will do her heart some good to know otherwise. One less thing to worry about.”

The older man sighed and Link took the opportunity to finally say his peace, “Not like that.”

The windbag looked perplexed. “You're not trying to court her?”

Link shook his head.

“Have you met her?!” The poet almost sounded offended. “Have you  _ seen _ her?” he asked in a quieter voice.

Link let out a tired sigh and nodded. He guessed that no one around the castle knew how often he butted heads with his charge. As for his second question… Link would be a liar if he said he hadn't found himself staring, or cursing himself for a perverse thought.

“Taken,” Link said, gesturing to himself.

The windbag was quite a long time, seeming to digest Link's words.

“Putting my joy aside, I must know, just who is the lucky maiden?” he asked, still a little stunned from what he just heard.

Link shook his head and pressed his forefinger against his lips. He wasn't about to give Zalla the satisfaction of knowing who had stolen his heart. Yes, the poet had just helped him, but Link still found the man annoying. 

“Wait,” Zalla said, his face a mix of curiosity and mischief, “Is it not a maiden, but a gentleman caller?”

Link started at him blankly,  _ why does everyone-- _

Zalla threw his hand in front of him, “Hey, unlike the soldiers, I don't judge that kind of thing! You would understand why if you met my sister.”

Link continued his blank stare. The Sheikah poet bore a genuinely friendly smile…

_ Wait… Zalla has a sister? _

“Um, I don't speak about her often. For a great many reasons,” he explained, dropping his hands to sides before throwing them back up again. “But her taste in lovers isn't one of them!”

_ Can… can he hear my thoughts? Shut up and leave already. _ Link begged. But if Zalla could indeed hear the knight's thoughts, he showed no sign of offense.

“Look,” he continued, “I know I'm a windbag, but there's no better secret keeper in this entire castle… You can trust me not to run my mouth on this. Just ask the Princess.”

_ Zalla's… self aware? _ Link's blank expression became one of befuddlement.

The Sheikah man buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated groan. Then he snapped his fingers, victory written on his face. “If you tell me who it is, I'll leave this room without another word,” he promised, hands clasped together in front of him.

Link weighed the options before him. On one hand he could refuse to answer, and Zalla would undoubtedly bother him for the rest of the night. On the other, he could simply confess and gain his night back. Either way, the poet won.

Link beckoned the windbag over to him, leaning towards his ear. “Mipha.”

Zalla's eyes light up like a guardian’s before it attacked. He slammed his fist against the table, choking back a giddy laugh. However, he remained true to his word, gathering his stuff, and finally leaving Link by himself.

The knight sighed happily. Now he could work on the… _ wait, what was I making? _

 

                                                                                                                             -oOo-

 

It was late afternoon by the time the Princess fishied her duties to the court. Zelda threw open the door to her bedroom and made her way to the staircase that lead to her research tower. Her shadow coughed and she turned to address him in a reserved tone, “Yes, Link?”

The young knight looked to the table full of food on the far side of her quarters. Lunch. No doubt brought here by the castle servants while she was attending a meeting with the King and his generals about a silver moblin causing terror in Eastern Faron. Roasted duck, bread, wine, and some fruits. There was enough for both her and Link.

“Go ahead.” She told her knight. “I’ll eat later.”

Zelda turned back to the stairs. She only had three hours to spare before she had to begin her nightly prayers to Hylia and the Golden Three, and she intended to use every minute to progress her knowledge of the Ancient Sheikah. Besides, the idea of eating had started to make her stomach churn in the last year.

_ Maybe it’s stress _ , she mused. 

The Princess stopped when she felt a tug at her wrist. Link had grabbed her arm and bore a glare on his face that allowed for no argument.

_ Of course he’s noticed my self neglect. Damn him _ . The Princess dropped her gaze to the floor, immediately regretting her last thought. She was being unfair to him again.

The knight released his grip, and moved toward the table, expecting her to follow.

“I’ll eat while I work,” Zelda said, reaching for a slice of bread.

Link sat in his chair with an audible force. His arms were crossed and he stared at her definitely, gesturing for her to sit across from him. The Princess felt a rush of anger flood her heart. What had gotten into him? And where did he get off ordering her around like that?

Zelda sighed, forcing herself to calm down.  _ This is because of the desert _ , she rationalized. She sat down and prepared the speech she had been working on for nearly a week.

“I am sorry,” she began, clearly catching Link off guard. “I am sorry for treating you callously. I am sorry for being disrespectful. I am sorry for always running off on my own. I am sorry I have made your job difficult…” She paused, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. “I am sorry for not truly appreciating just what your job is,” Zelda finished, closing her eyes.

Link’s arms fell to his sides as he stared at her, mouth agape. Comical as the sight was, it didn’t stop the Princess from continuing her apology, “My behavior has been childish and unbecoming of my stature. My stubborn attempts to maintain independence nearly cost me my life.”

Zelda could no longer look at her knight as she spoke. “Such behavior will cease from now on. I shall not stray from your side during our travels and I will treat you with the respect you deserve.”

The Princess let out a heavy sigh and tore a small piece off of her slice her bread. She forced it down and looked to Link, who had now composed himself. He was just staring at her. Blanky. Zelda had expected his silence, but still found it unbearable. It was heavy, suffocating. The man, no, the boy before her was the Heir to Courage. Nothing fazed him. Nothing rattled him for long. And he never let his thoughts be known.

Most found his nature admirable. Not the Princess. She found it infuriating. Link was always by her side. Always watching, listening, protecting,  _ hovering _ . Rarely speaking. All of it severed to make her feel isolated. Even when they were home, at the castle, Zelda felt separate from everyone. Including her father. Especially her father.

She shook her head. and tore at her bread again.  _ I can’t blame him for that… my failures are the reason for their spite, _ she reasoned.

The people hated their Princess. They had too. Everyday her powers lay dormant is another day she failed her them. And every day she failed them, Gannon grew stronger, pulling at its chains. How many days did she have left to fail before it broke free?

Zelda felt something on her arm and cast her gaze downwards to see a hand there. Link’s hand. He was kneeling beside her chair, worry cracking his stoic mask. When had he moved? When did he remove the Master Sword from his back? Where did that bag come from?

Link patted her arm before removing his hand and stood to push aside her plate of bread. He reached into his bag to pull out a plate covered by a simple iron cloche. 

He placed it before her and spoke in his practiced whisper, “Thank you… for…” He trailed off. Link had a bad habit of taking long pauses between words and never finishing his thoughts.

“Wha-what is?” she asked, only to be waved silent by her knight.

“For… coming around,” Link continued. “I… worried for… your mind’s health… since Gerudo.” He tapped the metal lid that protected the plate’s contents. The knight returned to sit in his chair, sitting with more grace and respect for the furniture. His newfound distance making it harder for Zelda to him. “I want… truce. Zalla recommended.” Link gestured for her to lift the cloche.

Zelda stared at him stupidly for a moment. She had never heard him say so much at one time before. Link tapped the table to get her attention, then pointed to the still covered plate.

“R-right. Sorry,” she said. “Oh, fruit cake! You-you talked to Zalla about this?” the Princess asked when she saw the circle of heaven before her.

“His idea,” Link said with a shrug.

“I see, I shall have to thank him properly later. What’s with that smirk?”

He simply shook his head at Zelda’s confusion. 

She sighed. “So, what do you mean by a truce?”

Link chuckled and pointed at her. “Already gave the terms.”

_ I… I’ve never heard him laugh before _ … “I guess I did,” Zelda said, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"It's flawless," Link muttered abruptly, eyes locked on the sword he’d lent against the table. "Fits my hand… as if I was made for it," he said picking it up. "Yet, I prefer my old short sword… this blade is--" he sighed-- "Heavy.  _ Cumbersome _ ,"

Zelda looked up from the cake she was slicing, irritation written on her  countenance.  “You mean to tell me that you prefer a shaped piece of mundane metal over the most powerful weapon to ever exist? A blade forged by the goddess Hylia and tuned to your very soul… because it can be swung faster, with a  _ slight _ increase in control?”

How could Link sit there and say something so blasphemous about his scared heritage, when he himself had watched her struggle in vain for **_months_** in search of her own? When he **_knew_** she had been searching for her powers since the death of her mother?

Zelda sat there, watching him in quiet disbelief as he stood to strap the sword onto his back once again. He poured himself a glass of wine then emptied the rest of the pitcher's contents in her goblet before sitting again. She grimaced at his actions. The wine was for him, not her. Never her.

“I’m not old enough--” she began, only to be cut off.

“Drink. You’ve earned... free sin.”

That made her chuckle despite her anger. “I’d hardly call it a sin.”

Link returned to his seat and continued. “I understand… if my words anger you. It. Just.”

The knight paused, taking a deep breath. “Life was simple with the short sword. Worries,” he said, pointing to himself. “were simpler… I trained. Fought simple monsters… few, far between. No one knew me.”

Link paused for another breath and went on, “Expectations were the same as other knights. I was granted leave. I guarded politicians… to Zora’s Domain bi monthly.”

Zelda’s jaw dropped briefly as Link took yet another cleansing breath. “No one noticed when I snuck… away with old friends.” Link gave her a small, guilty smile. “With Mipha.”

A simple, “Oh.” was all she could muster in response. Zelda finally took a bite of her cake slice, humming in delight at the flavor. 

_ This is by far the best cake I ever had _ , she thought, trying to distract herself from the last thing Link had said.

The Princess would be lying if she said she had never lusted for her knight. Much to her own frustration. A man she could barely stand, yet an inevitable presence in her life. A young, attractive, masculine presence in her very, very stressful life. Sinful, impure thoughts of hate-filled passion had kept her up late more nights than she cared to admit. Zelda was happy for them in spite of that, but the image of Link bedding the Zora princess was not one she needed to add to her roster… and now it was too late.

She was pulled out of her agitated thoughts by Link’s voice. “With the short sword… the world didn’t... depend on me. With the short sword… I was just another man… who needn't kill other men. And,” he said, gripping the Master Sword's hilt. “the short sword didn’t... try to kill me when I first drew it.”

The Princess once again stared at her knight, mouth hanging open in shock. She felt a surge of emotions rush through her. Guilt, for her recent, depraved thoughts. Heartache, to think the boy in front of her nearly died to unlock his destiny. Surprise, that the Sealing Blade would do such a thing to the one who tried to wield its power. Guilt again, for never thinking to ask her knight what trials he undertook to find the Master Sword. And lastly, fear. A fear that ran to core her as it finally sunk in that he had to land on death’s doorstep to unlock his heritage. Would she need to suffer such a fate to finally find hers?

“I-I’m sorry. I had no idea how you felt, or that the Master Sword could do such a thing,” Zelda said, finally taking a sip of her wine.

Wild berry. Hard to grow on a farm and thus expensive. Her knight’s favorite. It was the only luxray she had ever seen him indulge in. She wasn’t sold on the bittersweet taste, but it went well with the fruit cake.

“I assumed it had accepted your soul without question. Like in the oldest legends,” she said weakly.

Link smiled, cutting himself one of the duck’s legs. “You couldn’t… Never told you.”

Fresh guilt clouded Zelda’s vision as she finished another bite of cake. “I should have asked you.”

He ate a good portion of the leg before he replied, “Wouldn’t have told you. Anyone. Refused Mipha, when she asked.”

“Why… why tell me now?” Zelda asked, fork hovering near her mouth, cake forgotten.

“It happened to the… my other lives. I…” he finished the remainder of the leg and wiped the grease from his face. “Felt them all. So many.” He downed his wine in a single glup.

Zelda took another drink of her own wine, waiting for him to continue. She knew Link was the reincarnation of the Heroes who came before him. It was why he was so gifted with the sword. Muscle memory from hundreds of battles he had never seen. But no one knew just how deep his spiritual memory went. Not even Farore’s own High Priestess.

Link’s face was dark as he went on, not daring to make eye contact. “I… am… weak… to them.” He looked shaken, and that frightened the Zelda more than the Yiga Clan ever could.

He pointed to himself. “Not the weakest… but… I am...” Link got up, and walked away from the table. Away from her.

With his back to her, Zelda could not hear what he said next. But she didn’t need to.  _ Hylia above! He doesn’t think we can do this… If he can’t. What chance have I? _

She ought to have said something to him. Something to calm him. Give him hope. Remind him of the other Champions. Tell him that neither of them were alone. But she couldn’t. Not when she was so useless to him. What gave her the right to say everything would be fine? Zelda’s heart felt numb and her face red hot. She quickly reached for a cloth to wipe away unshed tears, cursing the wine for making her emotions surface.

“Princess,” her knight spoke at a normal volume for the first time in the year she had known him. His back was still to her. A fact she couldn’t be more grateful for. “I don’t… hate you. Find you annoying at worst, but don’t hate. Can’t know wha… how the silence hurts you.”

Zelda prayed that LInk wouldn’t turn to look at her as she fought down her emotions. She had no right to cry. No right to be so weak. Yet the words she spoke next betrayed her pain, “I… I wish my mother was here.” Zelda fought hard to keep her voice from breaking. “I’m hopelessly lost without her guidance.”

The years of unanswered prayers had left her feeling empty and utterly alone. Perhaps that was the real source of her perceived isolation. Zelda took several deep breaths and another drink of that damnable wine.

“Mother didn’t have Hylia’s blood, but my grandmother taught her things she couldn’t pass to her own son. The men of my family do not inherit Hylia’s gifts, you see, and thus have no place to learn her secrets.” Zelda sighed and studied the stonework on her ceiling.

Link crossed back to the table to stand by her. “Foolish tradition,” he said, his voice back to its normal whisper.

Zelda rose from her seat and turned face to him, “Extremely,” she agreed “Perhaps if my father understood my-- our heritage, things would be very different from how they are now.”

“There’s no point in bewailing a past that cannot be changed, or a world of ‘what ifs’ that will never be,” the Princess said as she crossed the room to a very large bookshelf. “It is the future we must focus on. That is the only thing we hold power over now. The most we can ask of our past is for lessons to guide that future.”

Zelda ran her left hand over several books, stopping over a pictularly thick tome. A historia, written by one of her ancestors. When she made to pull it from the shelf, she found LInk’s hand over hers. He slid the book back into place and withdrew his hand. He had the sense of self to look apologetic, but that did not excuse his actions.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Princess snapped.

She’d had enough of his strange behavior. Enough of the hard truths he’d laid bare before her. Zelda needed to refocus and drown the demons in her mind the only way she knew how; her research.

Link backed away, hands raised in submission. The knight looked as though he feared being struck. Zelda felt hot shame race across her face but did not break eye contact. Did he truly think so little of her?

“Rest,” he murmured. “No studies, no prayers. Just... cake, wine, music.” He smiled meekly.

With that, the last of her patience flew out the window. “Rest?! How can you even suggest such a thing when Ganon could wake any day? While my powers lay dormant? While we still know so little of the Ancients, the DIvine Beasts, and the Guardians? When you yourself claim to be weak and ill prepared?!”

Zelda clenched her fists so tightly at her side, that if it weren’t for the silk that covered her palms, she would have drawn her own blood.

“You. Won’t. Find it... in your grave,” the knight said, looking past his princess.

Zelda took a deep breath through her mouth and let it out through her nose. She felt her grip loosen and her shoulders drop.

“My research is a flight of fancy,” she said, echoing her father’s stern words. “It  _ is _ how I relax.”

Her knight shook his head. “It’s… work,” he said firmly, yet not unkindly.

Zelda sighed, feeling a mixture of gratitude and annoyance at Link’s words. Precious few truly appreciated how much devotion she put into her studies of the Ancients. Yet, he too, was shooting her down. She decided not to press the matter, having no strength left to fight that war. It didn’t help that she was beginning to feel light headed, and she wasn’t sure if the wine or her emotions were to be held responsible.

_ Both, _ she decided.

“If my father found out that I was neglecting my training, he would--” the Princess began feebly, but stopped when she noticed Link had returned his eyes to her, a sly smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

_ He’s the only one who would ever know _ , she realised.

“You would lie to your king?” Zelda asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

The knight shook his head, but that smile never left his lips. Zelda understood immediately. Link need not lie to the king. He need only keep his silence.

“Thank you,” Zelda said in a small voice, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “But, do you really mean to bar me from my research?”

Link gave a tired sigh and shook his head.

“Do... Do you really think it’s best if I put it aside for the day?”

Link merely shrugged, his countenance sliding back into its neutral mask. Despite his blank face and calm stance, he appeared drained of his strength. The Princess highly doubted she would hear him speak again tonight. Or this fortnight, for that matter.

“Princess.” He must enjoy proving her wrong. “The short sword can’t make life… simple,” he said, pointing to her, his face still expressionless. “but it could… save it.”

Zelda found herself, for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, staring dumbly at her knight. He was quiet for a long time, seemingly fascinated by the simplicity of his boots. She waited patiently for Link to continue, eager to see where this was going.

When he finally spoke again, it was in a voice so low, Zelda had to ask him to repeat himself.

“I would pass it to you. Teach… basics while we travel,” he said, throat visibly staining from the effort.

He wants to teach her how to fight? The crown princess? If her father heard of this, he would be enraged. The women in her family hadn’t held a place in battle for nigh on eight generations. Hylia’s Priestesses have long cautioned the royal family that its daughters must hold true to Hylia’s gentle light and be beacons of peace. Nayru’s High Priestesses cation that Her Heirs should honor history and be knowledgeable in all things. Including battle. Sadly for Zelda, King Roam and his predecessors favored the teachings of Hylia over the Goddess of Wisdom’s. They favored Her Word above the entire Gold Trinity despite Her place in the pantheon being one of servitude to Them. Zelda knew it was because Hylia is the founder of the royal bloodline but still struggled with understanding that reasoning. Then again, maybe their favor was simply a result of Her being the only of Four to ever take interest in mortal affairs.

It would be most scandalous for Zelda to learn swordplay of any form. Yet that only served to excite the Princess. It was a way to rebel against her father, the court, and the deaf ears of Hylia. It was a rebellion none would ever hear of-- but a rebellion nonetheless.

“You do me a great honor, Sir Link. I would like that. I would like that very much.” She thought of his earlier words:  _ cake, wine, and music _ . “I think I shall take your advice. Would you send for the Zalla and more wine?”

Link grimaced at the mention of the court poet but bowed his head and did as he was asked. While she waited, Zelda finished her wine and cake slice. When LInk returned, she watched in bemused horror as Link devoured half the duck, a whole apple, and three slices of bread. She had never seen her knight eat with such graceless hunger. Her hazy mind found the display to be far funnier than it actually was. Were she sober, she might have been appalled by his disgusting behavior.

_ This must be a part of who he really is, _ she mused. It was comforting to know the Hero wasn’t as perfect as his front lead people to believe.

Zalla arrived not thirty minutes after the summons was sent. He wore a white tunic with a gold trim and simple brown trousers. He held a wooden harp in his right hand and a wine bottle in his left. His songbook was tucked safely in the crook of his right arm. As soon as Link opened the door for Zalla, he had closed it again. With himself on the other side. The Sheikah man stared at the door with the same stupefied expression Zelda had grown accustomed to wearing over the past hour.

“Is-is he supposed to leave you alone with me? Or anyone for that matter?” he asked.

“No. No he is not. But I doubt he will wonder further than the start of the staircase.” Zelda shrugged. “I guess he isn’t in the mood for song.”

 

“Well, that’s not terribly surprising,” Zalla said. “I did have a laugh or two at his expense last night,” he laughed heartily. “I wrote this lovely little poem about his love for sweets. The man has no sense of humor.” He raised the bottle to shoulder height. “And he left without his wine!”

Zelda blushed, realizing she had dug her own grave by asking for both a bottle of wine and a witness to her crime.

“Actually, it’s for me.” It was too late to back down now. She may as well own it.

Zalla made an exaggerated gasp, hiding his face behind the harp. “You’ve been drinking?! What would the king say?”

He quickly crossed the room and placed his belongings on an empty chair. Then he broke into a mock impersonation of her father, “Now see here Zelda! You are Hylia’s blood, the Heir to Wisdom, and the throne of Hyrule.”

Zalla began to pace, one hand behind his back, the other free to punctuate his points with wild gestures. “You’re sixteen! A child! A child should not drink! No matter if your birthday is but two months out!” He hunched down, pretending to walk with cane, his voice mimicking that of a decrepit old man. “Why, when I was your age, I-iiiiiiit doesn’t matter what I did when I was your age! I’m an angry old codger now and all that matters is you getting your act together! Take those dusty tombs filled legends of our family’s legacy and your extensive knowledge technical wonders to the fire pit. You’ve better things to do than play scholar. Like wasting your gifts praying at shrines til your face turns blue and your tongue falls out. Now begone! I’ve got scowling to do,” he finished, stroking a non-existent beard.

Zelda smiled weakly, shaking her head at the poet’s painfully accurate rant as her father.

“You’re a terrible comic,” she told him, a small warmth to her voice. 

“Terrible jester I may be, yet there is still a smile lighting the face of Your Grace,” Zalla said, giving her a small bow, much like the one he gives at the end of public performances.

She laughed lightly. “It’s the drink that makes me smile so. Not your wit.”

The poet grabbed his heart and let out a pained sound. “You wound me with your cruel, cruel words, Princess,” he said, feigning sobs the whole time.

Zelda laughed at his theatrics. She retrieved the bottle of wine and found a clean goblet for him.

“How is the Champions’ Ballad coming along?” she asked him as she sat on the edge of her bed.

Zalla pulled a chair from the table and placed it a respectful distance across from his princess. “Swimmingly,” he answered as he sat. “However, it is sadly still far from finished. But I would happily sing to you what I’ve put together thus far.”

“I would like that. Would you please start with Urbosa’s verse? And after,” she paused for a moment, unsure of what she wanted to hear. “After, sing to me songs of love and war. Songs of hope and pain. Songs of drought and rain. Sing to me songs of birth and death.”

Zalla looked at her foundly. “All at once, Your Grace? We would be here a while.”

Zelda returned his warm expression. “I’ve nowhere to be, have you?”

“No, Zelda. I’ve not. I shall sing for you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Outside the solid oak door, Link hummed absentmindedly to the muffled tunes of Zalla's harp. He was trying his best to stay awake. Honestly, he was. But he only had four hours of sleep to his name, he was slightly drunk, and he was emotionally exhausted. It was the last factor that caused his head drop on occasion. Fortunately, there were only five hours left in his shift. Come the full dark of night, he would be relieved by two members of the Royal Guard. In the meantime, there was no one to notice his lapse in duty. As he dozed in and out of consciousness, Link wondered if that damned windbag could actually bring his charge happiness. The poet seemed to have a fighting chance, given that her laughter had startled him awake twice now.

The knight smiled weakly. They didn't have much time left. If he could shirk his responsibilities long enough to find comfort in the arms of another, Zelda could too. She deserved the feeling of security that came from a lover's embrace. Maybe it wouldn't be right for her. Maybe the timing was all wrong. The king had, after all, put off presenting her with suitors, as was custom for a Hylian princess nearing adulthood. It was the one mercy he gave his daughter. Link couldn't imagine how the stress of an arranged marriage, on top of Ganon's return, would affect Zelda. He wasn't foolish enough to think Zalla's interest was entirely pure, but Link was hardly in a position to fault another man for lust. Besides, the poet genuinely seemed to care for her. His motivations were simple, free of political desires.

The music came to a stop, and the knight heard the passionate voice of his charge. 

Although he couldn't make out most of what she was saying, he did catch the excited shout of, "Medoh!"

At the end of the day, even if now was the wrong time for romance, Zelda still had someone she could speak with about anything.  _ And _ get a reply. Someone who would listen to all her ideas, examine them, and give her honest feedback. Link could only hope that would be enough to see her through the trials ahead. If nothing else, she was happy, here and now. No matter how unlikely the future became, he could rest easier tonight, knowing that Zelda had something she actually looked forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> This took FOREVER. When I posted "There Will Be a Future", I thought to myself, I could do this once a week! Now, just over a month later, I realised how wrong I was. Maybe this took so long because I burnt out on it, or because I have half a dozen other ideas wondering through my mind, begging for attention. I honestly can't say. None of that matters though, because I stuck to it. I learned a lot while writing this story, and am overall happy with it, even if I see it as the weaker of my current works.
> 
> As you could probably tell, I don't ship this Link and Zelda, but still imagine a great deal of sexual tension between them. They're both teenagers, under a lot of pressure, and spend weeks at a time alone together. I really do enjoy that idea, and will likely play with it more in the future.
> 
> But enough of my rambling. I must thank you for reading until the end of my tale. I beg you, leave a comment. Love? Hate? Meh? I welcome it all! I want to grow, and need criticism to do so, no matter how harsh the words that fall. Have a goodnight, my fellow readers, and a wonderful tomorrow.


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